Karl (louderback) wrote,

philosophizing of a sort


We live, I think, with the thinnest of veils between us and madness. Our minds fly free and reckless. We bump and tear at, pierce, the veil. We contort its boundaries and treat it as a silken drapery rent by decades of exposure to the elements at an open window. Rain soaks the veil and it hangs heavily, impinging not at all on us. Winds blow and dry the drapery and it blows its tatters deep into our lives where our minds gambol about dodging, bumping, playing between outstretched filaments of insanity.


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